by Fields, MJ
“Why aren’t you?”
“Because you haven’t let me.”
His groin is pressed firmly against me, the weight of him powerful. I push down the ache in my throat and the burning desire I am experiencing. I know I shouldn’t want him. I know nothing good can come out of being with him.
Blame it on his words. Blame the shadow of night. Blame my damn heart because I want to feel his touch so damn much that I couldn’t care less about the consequences.
“Touch me,” I breathe.
As the words leave my mouth, his chest jerks ever so slightly under my hand. For a moment, I don’t think he is going to move.
Suddenly, I feel his lips on mine, and it’s as if the whole world explodes with a bright white light.
His lips are soft, warm, and slightly parted on my mouth. The power of this simple action is making my head spin with lust. He is firm yet gentle, like he wants more but is afraid to take it.
I part my mouth and run my tongue over his supple lip. He lets out a groan into my mouth, and I know it’s exactly what he wants. I deepen the kiss, and it feels like I’ve just given him permission to open the gates of heaven.
Our tongues intertwine. The gentle Adam is gone, and in his place is the man who is taking his treasure. His hands rise to my face, and I fall into his kiss and let him take the lead.
Adam is the man created from the rib of God, and I am his Eve, tempting him with the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden.
If I thought his body was close before, I was wrong. As he takes hold of me, there is absolutely nothing between us. Air can’t squeeze through the tight space of our limbs.
His hand lowers to my ass and lifts me against the tree, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist. He has one hand under me while the other is back in my hairline, cradling my head.
Our bodies begin to move—his up and into me, mine down and toward him—forming a wave of sexual pleasure. Our cores rub up against one another, the friction already causing me to throb. I run my hands through his hair and pull hard, and Adam bites my lower lip.
I’ve kissed. I’ve fooled around. But there is nothing that can ever, will ever, compare to the instant explosion of lust and heat and want that I am experiencing with Adam right now.
His hand lowers from my head and slides down my body to lift the end of my shirt. It travels beneath the fabric and up the side of my body, exposing me. His mouth releases from our kiss and lowers to find the skin at the edge of my satin bra. He runs his tongue along the edge, and I gasp from the contact.
I use my hand to lower my bra, so my breasts are pushed up and out, my nipples tingling from the night breeze.
“I wish for nothing more than to be able to see you right now,” Adam utters, his tongue dancing circles around my nipple as he thrusts his body into mine.
“I want nothing more than to be able to fuck you right now,” I say with bated breath.
“Jesus Christ,” he says just before he takes my breast in his mouth.
I nearly scream out into the dark of night.
Thrusting.
Grinding.
Pulsing.
I am on fire, and I need him inside me.
Lowering my legs, I try to get on steady ground. When I do, his mouth breaks from my chest but quickly finds my mouth. I undo the button of his shorts and slide my hand inside, wrapping my fingers around the wide girth.
“Holy fuck, Leah. Please tell me this is really happening,” he breathes. He has to lean his hands on the tree behind me to keep his balance.
I pump the hard steel of his shaft and run my thumb around the tip. The desire to have him inside me is building greater than before, and if I don’t feel him in me, I am going to die in the middle of the forest.
With my free hand, I lower my shorts and then tug on my panties.
“Baby, we have to stop,” he says between pants.
“Stop?” I say. I lean up to kiss his incredible mouth again. “There is no stopping us now.” I suck on his tongue.
His hands mold around my ass, squeezing my skin and drawing me into him.
I pump him harder, faster, and then I run the tip of his shaft against my belly, showing him the promise of what’s to come.
“Leah, please.”
I rise up onto my toes to better line myself up with him. The anticipation of this hard, swollen head entering me is making me throb.
He places a hand on my wrist and stops the motion. “We can’t do this.”
Falling back into the tree, my heart is racing, my body is on the edge of climax, and my head is reeling. “Did you just stop us from having sex?”
Adam’s breaths are loud, roaring from his diaphragm, and he tries to control them. “Yes.”
With two hands on his chest, I push him away. I pull my shorts up my legs and lower my bra and shirt back into place. Running a hand through my hair, I try to figure out what the hell just happened.
“Don’t be upset,” he says.
“Upset?” I ask, moving away from him and the tree, tripping over myself in the darkness. “I’m not upset. Why would I be? You were just humping me against a spruce and letting me jerk you off, only to push me away and say you don’t want to fuck me.”
“Exactly. I don’t want to fuck you up against a tree in the middle of the woods with your friends twenty yards away. Sorry if I’m trying to be chivalrous.”
My friends.
Jessica.
“Shit!” I cry and slam my hand against a tree. Well, that hurt. A lot. I pull my hand into my chest and shake away the sting.
What the hell am I doing out here with Adam when Jessica is at the camp, waiting for her friend and the guy she is crazy about to come back from the world’s longest pee in the woods? I am the worst person on the planet.
I start to walk through the trees, heading toward the amber light. Adam is quickly by my side.
“No,” I say to him as I stop. “Let me go back first.”
“We’ve been out here for a long time. They probably know what was going on.”
“I don’t want them to know anything. As far as they are concerned, we were arguing.”
He grabs my wrist and pulls me toward him. The moon is shooting through the trees, cascading a white light across his face. “I said I didn’t want to take you for the first time up against a tree. I didn’t say I wanted to pretend what we did didn’t happen.”
Pulling my wrist from his grasp, I step back and start to walk away. “Jessica is my friend, Adam. I have many faults, but an honest friend I will forever be. Not to mention, this can’t happen. What if someone finds out you’re sleeping with me? You could lose your job, and I would lose my bar. Between the two of us, you’re supposed to be the mature one. You’re supposed to keep me straight. Instead, you’re letting me corrupt you, the same way I do with everyone else.” My eyes begin to burn, but I’ll be damned if I start crying.
He leans in, and his hands reach out to grab me, but I back away.
“I care about you,” he says.
“If you care about me, you’ll stay away.”
Nineteen
“What are you doing here?” Toby pops his head into the bathroom I am grouting.
“I can’t make it on my usual day, so I thought I’d lend a hand today.” I’m on my hands and knees, wiping sanded grout into the crevices of the tiles the crew laid yesterday. I can’t lay tile for shit, but I can read directions, mix a bag of Polyblend, and scoop it onto the floor with a trowel.
“This place is addicting, isn’t it?” he says.
“Surprisingly so.” I lean back onto my heels and wipe the sweat off the top of my head.
“You need help in here?” he asks, adjusting his hair under the trucker hat he has on his head.
“No, thanks. I want to work alone today.” To prove my point, I take the earbuds hanging around my neck and slide them into my ears.
“Oh, cool. All right. Keep up the good work. Holler if you need a hand.”
Toby
leaves, and I am left in the small bathroom, a place I volunteered to spend my day away from everyone. I spread the grout into the small joints and let it set for fifteen minutes. When I’m at the opposite end of the bathroom, I work my way back to the beginning and wipe the muddy floor with a wet sponge.
I move to the other bathroom in the home and grout it as well. By lunchtime, I have no excuse to stay in the bathrooms, so I work my way downstairs and take my spot under the tree where Adam and I have been having our lunch for the last few weeks.
When my dad saw me leaving this morning, he ran out with a packed lunch. Leave it to Bob to get excited at the thought of making his little girl a lunch, like he did when I was in grade school. He even wrote me a note.
Your mind will give back to you exactly what you put into it.
It’s a James Joyce quote. I know I get my idiosyncrasies from my dad. He, the lover of all things Joyce. Me, the great defender of McConaughey.
Chewing on Dad’s homemade taffy, I look up at the three homes that are almost ready for their owners. Roger and Vivienne Montgomery, the wounded veteran and his wife, will be ready to move in next week. The Framers, who lost their daughter to a fire, will be in shortly after, and the Mikguses will be out of the shelter before Halloween. We aren’t making the timetable we hoped, but we are doing a kick-ass job.
After the camping trip, I knew I wouldn’t be able to work with Adam again. Having him at my home and taking the forty-minute trek here together are out of the question. I told Noreen that she would be in charge of the bar until I got there. That place might be my life, but this is my commitment. At least for the next four months.
I quickly finish my lunch, toss my bag in the trash, walk across the dirt, and enter through the back of the middle house to paint. Today’s crew is pretty light, so I’ll be able to find a spot to work by myself.
I choose one of the bedrooms, set myself up with the sandstone paint, and get to work. Climbing up a ladder, I start with the top of the wall, cutting into the corners.
The wooden handle feels sturdy in my hand. I dip the brush in the paint and place it on the Sheetrock. Gliding the creamy paint on the wall, I realize I’ll need more control if I don’t want to get it all over the ceiling. The paint is too lovely, too smooth, and too enticing, and one small sway will leave a mark where I don’t want it.
Kind of like Adam.
I had ahold on him—on our past and our interactions. I had ahold on the feelings I was developing. But he was too lovely, too smooth, and way too enticing. I made one sway and left a mess of everything.
I move the ladder a few feet to a fresh area and climb back up. Working with the utmost control, I paint so perfectly that you’d think a machine did it.
I climb down again, move the ladder, and pause when I notice Adam is standing in the room. A tingle runs up the backs of my arms, travels the length of my neck, and rushes up my hairline. It passes quickly as my brain reminds my body what happened in the woods.
If I climb up the ladder, I’ll probably fall off from the way my nerves are acting. There’s a window in the center of the wall. I move closer to it and start painting around the trim.
Adam takes a step closer to me. He’s wearing a salmon-colored shirt. Other than that, I can’t tell a thing about how he looks. But I can tell how he smells. Like someone who came here right out of the shower. Even with the pungent smell of paint in the room, I can detect the citrus of his shampoo.
“I know you’re trying to ignore me,” he says.
I tightly clench my jaw as I continue to glide the brush down the wall. It’s shaky, and if I don’t watch my hand, I’ll get sandstone all over the white trim. My earbuds are still in, but there’s no music coming through them. I stare at the wall, pretending like I can’t hear him.
“I was right to stop us,” he continues, “but you are wrong with why I did it. I don’t want Jessica. I never wanted her.”
He takes a step closer, and I walk toward the ladder and dip my brush in the can. I start on the other side of the window.
“Don’t ignore me. We’ve done that for seven years, and I’m not going back to living that way again. You mean”—I catch his reflection in the glass as he runs a hand through his hair—“more to me than I ever realized. Are you listening to me?”
My eyes start to burn. I widen them and take a deep breath to control the feelings that are swishing around.
“Leah,” Toby calls out. “Oh, hey, Adam. You got here fast. I feel like I just spoke to you. Leah, can you give me a hand in the other room? I need someone who can do the trim without hitting the molding.”
I turn to the ladder and grab my can of paint. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”
Keeping my head down so as not to look at Adam, I start to walk toward Toby, who is standing by the door. My arm is being pulled back. Adam’s hand is gripping on to me. It’s a purposeful grab, meant to ground me in place. I follow that hand up to his corded arm, over the jaw that hasn’t been shaved in a few days, and into eyes that are zeroed in on me.
His mouth is pinched in. “Nice to know you could hear me.”
He releases my arm and turns away.
I manage to make it through the rest of the afternoon without seeing him. I virtually lock myself away and paint, only stopping if Toby asks for a hand.
At five o’clock, I’m done for the day and make my way toward Luke’s car. I really need to figure out what I’m going to do about transportation. Luke goes back to school next week. Maybe I should have helped him get that motorcycle. I could have borrowed it to cruise around town.
I’m walking across the dirt pathway when I see Adam’s truck parked on the other side of the road. I look over, and his frame is visible from the front seat. I chose to volunteer today because Adam was on duty. Looks like I’m his project on and off the job.
I proceed to get in my car and drive away. So used to driving this route in silence, I keep the music off. I follow the dirt road and watch as Adam’s car trails right behind me.
“Leave me alone!” I call out even though he can’t hear me as I enter onto the highway.
I dip into the right lane. He dips, too. And then he honks, probably mad I didn’t use my blinker.
I hold up my middle finger nice and straight, so he can see it.
My rearview mirror gives me a view of his scowl.
The speed limit on the highway is sixty-five miles per hour. People do eighty without blinking an eye. If Mr. Tailgate wants to follow me home, he’s going to have to do it at my pace. I drop my speed down to fifty-five miles per hour and settle into the far right lane. It doesn’t seem like a huge deal, but following someone at this rate is like water torture. Especially for me. I’m not a reckless driver, but watching the cars pass by on the left makes me feel like I’m a turtle.
I drum my fingers on the leather steering wheel. The pickup is still behind me. Maybe a few more minutes of this monotony will make him give up and speed into the distance.
I reach into my bag and pull out my phone. With my eyes on the road—okay, I take a quick glance—I tap on my Audible app and open the book I started listening to with Adam. I downloaded it and have been listening sporadically.
The girl narrator is speaking.
“Everything about us, our childhood, our relationship—it’s all coming into focus. My role in his life then and now. I’ve always loved him, and I always will, but maybe my purpose was to be his gravity and not his lover.”
I hit the stop button and toss my phone in the backseat. I officially hate this book.
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel again. My nails are a pretty shade of hot pink. I sneak a look at them just as the yellow light indicating that I’m running low on gas pops on.
“Damn it, Luke,” I call out.
It’s really not his fault. I’ve been driving this hot rod just as much as he has lately. I should have noticed I was low on gas this morning.
I drive for a few more miles until I reach the town ju
st a few exits away from Cedar Ridge. Of course, Stalker McStalkerton is following me off the exit ramp. I glide up the road to the first gas station just off the highway and pull up to a self-service pump. I turn the car off, pop the gas tank, and hop out of the car. Adam’s truck is parked by the air pump.
I select the gas grade and insert the nozzle into the tank. I’m watching the price tick up when a police cruiser pulls up next to the pump on the other side of me.
The front door opens, and Officer Harper steps out. He’s fixing his pants, pulling them up around the waist, when he sees me standing there.
I offer him a closed mouth smirk. Nothing more, nothing less. I mean, he’s the reason I’m stuck to Adam for half of a year. If he’d just done his job like he was supposed to and really investigated the crash, I wouldn’t be going through any of this nonsense.
“Hi there,” he says, quite cordial for someone who arrested me for drunk-driving. “Paige, right?”
“Leah Paige,” I confirm. “And don’t worry; I’m on my way home from my community service.”
He places two hands on his belt just above his holster and walkie-talkie—a comfortable resting spot, I’m sure. Leaning his head to the side, he narrows his eyes at me. “You in trouble?”
I blink at him. My gas counter ticks and clicks off. “Not in any more than you put me in.”
“Where are you doing community service?” he asks.
I look to the side, dumbfounded, and then back to him to answer, “Homes for All Souls.”
Light registers in his eyes. “Reingold’s charity. Great organization. Glad you’re helping out.”
“Me, too,” I answer.
I put the gas nozzle back in the holster. I’m closing the door to the gas tank when I see Adam exit his truck. He starts to move toward us but stops. Then, he turns and heads back toward the side of his truck. He punches in the air but stays by his truck.
I look back to Harper. “You sound surprised.”
He looks up at me. “Excuse me?”
“I’m only volunteering because of you.” I can’t believe I’m explaining the details to him.